Er, Wrong Party
by Username666
Summary: Somewhere in Skyrim, there is a very dead Emperor sipping tea alone. (First story here, I have no clue what I'm doing)


**A one-shot from my fanfiction on Wattpad, Myths of Sheogorath. Inspired by what the MadGod himself says in-game.**

" Haskill, I'm going on a vacation!"

" Sir, what about-"

" Oh, you take care of it."

" But-"

" Butt? Butt?! Are you implying something about the size of my rear, Haskill?!"

" Er, no sir. I'll take care of... Everything."

" Good!" Sheogorath slammed the suitcase shut, forcing the zipper shut with difficulty. In fact, without magic and an impressive amount of cheese grease, the bursting luggage would never have been able to shut.

" Where are you going, my Lord?" Haskill, his Chamberlain, drawled. Everything about the rather aged man absolutely 'drawled'.

" Oh, to have tea with an old friend! don't worry your ridiculously small brain over it, I'll be back... eh, I'll be back when I run out of cheese." The Daedric Prince promised with a shrug.

" I believe you've packed enough cheese for several life times, my Lord."

" Well, if it helps, my old friend is very much dead." Sheogorath pulled the suitcase off the bed it rested on, nearly toppled by the shift of weight. " Ha, Sithis is still ticked off about that 'outlawing death' thing.

" Anyways, off I am, Hazzy. Don't break the world or anything while I'm gone. We're only renting it." Before the Chamberlain could reply, Sheogorath vanished in a cloud of purple light.

_Well_, Thought Haskill silently as he left the now empty room. _If anything bad happens, I could always shout 'I hate cheese'. That'd get his attention._

" Tell me, A-"

*POOF!*

" Eh? Eh?! Who's called me a Poof!?" A short man wearing a tall hat jumped out of his creaky old chair, furiously smashing the tea-cup in his hand against the ground. No-one else at the table reacted to his sudden outburst. Or to the new guest, apparently.

" Pelaguis? Sithis, boy, you've shrunk! And grown an accent.. Is that normal?" Sheogorath brushed some dust off his suit, arching one silver eyebrow at the short man.

" Pelaguis? Poof? I will not stand these insults!"

" You're standing?"

" Er, Hatter, maybe we should find out who our guest is. It's only polite." A young blond girl suggested, sipping from a chipped cup.

" Ah, fine. I'm Mad Hatter, that's March Hare, Dormouse, Alice.. Oh, and Cheshire Cat." The short man rattled off swiftly. " Hello, goodbye, you really must be going-"

" Oh, Hatter! Being polite never cost anyone anything." Alice scolded him. " Please, sir, take a seat. May we ask your name?"

" Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness." Said Prince grinned crazily. " Charmed."

" I'm sure." The Mad Hatter drawled, voice dripping acid. His large purple top hat almost completely shadowed his beady brown eyes.

" Do you happen to know where the Blue Palace is?" Sheogorath asked politely, sipping tea.

" Blue Palace? What manner of place is that?" The Dormouse mumbled sleepily, using a sugar cube as a pillow.

" Well, it's a Palace. In Solitude."

" Solitude isn't a place." Alice said, slapping the March Hare's hand away from the Dormouse's Tea. " It's a state of mind, is what my Father said."

" 'Tis called an emotion." Hatter corrected, twirling a silver spoon in his hand. " A feeling. It's not like sleeping."

" How is sleeping a state of mind?" The Cheshire Cat asked, joining in. His fluffy purple and pink tail knocked over a bowl filled to the brim with what looked like popcorn, until they grew legs and scuttled away, that is.

" What if Mind is actually a state," Sheogorath started slowly, raising both eyebrows. " And Sleep is the capital? So Sleep is the Capital of the state Mind?"

This raised eyebrows and gasps of sudden enlightenment all around the table.

" You should make a map, you should." The Dormouse sniffed momentarily before falling back to sleep.

" Oh! A map! Of course, I must have packed one..." Sheogorath had jumped out of his chair, turning the suitcase inside out rather than try to force the cheese encrusted zipper back open. Odd and random objects scattered into a large pile over the suitcase. On top, rolled neatly and bound with a little blue ribbon, was a map of Skyrim.

" Ah, I really am sorry. But I'm late! The Emperor and I are going to have tea. Buh-bye!" Sheogorath straightened up and was just about to disappear when the Mad Hatter leaped the table and stopped him.

" Wait! I have a riddle, just one, before you go." Sheogorath tilted his head to the side, grinning broadly.

" Well, on with it!"

" Why is a Raven like a Writing Desk?" The entire table waited with bated breath. The MadGod seemed to consider it for several seconds, scratching his chin.

" Oh, I know!"

" You do?"

" Of course. It's easy! Ravens are like writing desks because.." He paused for dramatic effect. " Edger Allen Poe! Now I must be going. Ta!"

Sheogorath *Poof!*'d away before anyone could react. Everyone was silent for several seconds.

" Well, we have one answer now." Mad Hatter said finally, sitting back down in his chair. " But what's an Edgar Allen Poe?"

(Several pointless quests later)

" Clothes? Check. Beard? Check! Luggage? Now where did I leave my luggage...?"

**I think this crossover could work, personally. I might not be able to pull it off, but there's potential.**


End file.
